It's Salad for Dinner
by NorthernTrash-x
Summary: Zoro/Sanji. Dedicated to Melissa. Zoro is distracting, and Sanji decides that the crew can live without a cooked dinner, because, to be honest, he has better things to do.


Zoro / Sanji

**It's Salad For Dinner**

_this is our last dance_  
_this is ourselves_  
_under pressure_  
- Queen

I can see him now, leaning on the rail of the Going Merry, staring lazily into the distance.

Lucky bastard.

He drew ship duty, and was able to stay aboard instead of having to trek through the markets and shops in the sweltering heat, buying supplies and doing whatever else the rest of the crew do on their time on land.

The heat is suppressing, uncomfortable. I can feel the sheen of sweat on my upper lip and my forehead, but I can reach to wipe it off since my hands are full of bags of food.

He, however, is enjoying a light breeze that has swept across the sea from his higher position on the deck.

As I board the ship he comes over, and takes the bags off me. The weight he can carry still surprises me sometimes. Not that I was struggling with the bags, but he just carries them as if they were nothing, which to him they probably are.

"You were quick," he comments as we walk through to the galley.

"It's too hot to stay out there too long."

He nods in agreement and puts the bags down onto the table. He stretches his arms out, and I wince at the audible crack as his elbows pop. For once, he doesn't leave immediately, but settles himself down at the table.

Slightly unnerved by this, I busy myself putting the food away.

I can't remember when our daily fighting grew less frequent, I really can't. It happened sometime after I realised that it was uncomfortable to be so physically close to him, as I began to have feelings that I could only just hide, at least until I was alone.

It wasn't just that, though. After a while, I grew tired of the fleeting glares of disgust shot to me after a fight.

They got to me more than I would ever let on.

It soon got to where I was the one backing down from fights, but it wasn't long before he stopped challenging me entirely.

I know I started backing down just before I realised that I didn't actually care if Nami and Robin never look my way, because they weren't really what I wanted.

"Did you see where the others went?" he asks in his low-pitched, bored voice.

"Chopper dragged Usopp into the apocratherapy, on the promise that they'll go somewhere where Usopp can buy paint next. Luffy found an all you can eat offer at some local place. We won't see them for hours. Nami dragged Robin shopping, so they'll be even longer."

He nods, closes his eyes, and tilts his head back.

"Why are you in here, anyway? I thought you preferred the deck to sleep on."

He opens his eyes and stares at me. He smirks.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

I blush, and turn around.

"Don't be a fucking idiot,"

But I'm lying. I can help but want to go over there and make some of my more x-rated dreams come true. The kind of dreams you get being stuck on a ship with the one person who you just can't seem to resist anymore. Is it any wonder it's so hard, knowing that the object of your lust can never be more that a few metres away from you, sleeping within a foot of you, and working out within immediate eyesight?

"So we've got the ship to ourselves then?" does he sound pleased, or is that just my imagination?

* * *

Hmm. An afternoon with the cook- this might prove to be interesting, especially as my presence seems to be distracting him more that usual.

Did he think I didn't notice him watching me train every morning? I'm the only one who really knows why he is so distracted at breakfast, although I think Robin may guess soon. She is far too intelligent for her own good, that one.

I stare at his back, wondering how to antagonise him next.

Don't get me wrong, I just like how red his face goes when he's annoyed and slightly embarrassed.

I stand, and silently walk up behind him. Leaning close to his ear, I breathe into it and whisper.

"And just why am I so distracting, cook?"

He jumped with shock, and spun around, colliding with me. His cheeks were flushed red, even darker now that he noticed just how close I had come. He is smaller than me, and I look down at his face, smirking at how near it is.

"G…ge…get away from me, fucking marimo!"

I smirk, glad that I've got him as wound up as I have. I place both of my hands flat against the wall, on each side of his blonde head, and lean in slightly.

Today I'll do it. I'll do it today. I've been watching him long enough to be sure that he feels similar, unless I've badly misinterpreted the lingering, longing glances he sends my way when he thinks I'm not watching.

He's staring up at me, still blushing hard and looking very perplexed.

* * *

How did he get so close without me noticing? I can't focus on anything when he is this close to me. But why is he so close? I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face and I know there is no way I can resist any longer.

So I don't.

I push myself up against his body, feeling the tautness of his muscles through our clothes. His palms stay flat on the wall as I turn my face towards his and he turns his towards mine. I smirk up at him, and slowly lick my bottom lip. His eyes widen at that, but after that momentary shock he smirks down at my flushed features..

I gasp with pleasure as he leans in to kiss me, and he takes advantage of my slightly open mouth. I respond eagerly, and soon our tongues are playing a running game of dominance, as my hands run up and down his body. He uses his hands on the wall as balance as he presses down harder, and I squirm with delight, enjoying the deeper kiss this new force provides.

I push him away, and now it is my chance to smirk up at his bewildered face.

"You'll have to wait, marimo. I need to start dinner."

He stares at me, insulted, before pulling me back into another kiss, his arms wrapped this time around my waist. I melt into him, and soon his hands are running across my ass, my back, the top of my legs, with one arm constantly returns to my waist, as a constant reminder that I'm his now.

I'm feeling rather ungracious to the others and the fact that they have to eat, because they'll be expecting a feast and to do that I'll need to break away pretty soon.

As his hand finds the hem of my shirt, and his fingers stroke the skin on the small of my back underneath the fabric, I suddenly decide, with absolute certainty, that the others will have to live with it, because there is a salad I can make in ten minutes, and there is a source of green that seems much more appetising to me this minute.


End file.
